Tuesday

Oct 9, 2018 at 11:30 AMOct 9, 2018 at 11:30 AM

You know Paul Greengrass for his lucrative collaborations with Matt Damon on three of the four “Jason Bourne” films, but what the writer-director really excels at are his smaller, more intimate explorations of real-life tragedies born out of political descent: “Bloody Sunday” about the Irish Troubles, “United 93” about heroism on 9/11, and “Captain Phillips” about the desperate lives of Somalians under vicious rule.

All three are excellent, but none of them are as timely as his latest, “22 July,” the story of Norwegian terrorist Anders Behring Breivik, the white nationalist who slaughtered 77 people — most of them children — when he went on a rampage in and around Oslo on July 22, 2011. Like President Donald Trump and his xenophobic advisor, Stephen Miller, Breivik believes in a full-on assault on the multiculturalism that’s been exacerbated by the world’s refugee crisis. Where he and the president differ is in the means to an end. Trump seeks to whiten the U.S. via the legal system, whereas Breivik opted to do it via a sick mind and semiautomatic weapons.

The opening of “22 July” is appropriately chilling, as Greengrass and editor William Goldenberg cut back and forth between Breivik — in a gas mask — mixing explosives in a barn and a rainbow coalition of teenagers arriving at a summer leadership camp on Norway’s Utoya Island. You ache for the kids, knowing that on the following day most will fall prey to Breivik and his AR-15. But you also seethe over the utter lack of security at the camp, a hole made larger when Breivik diverts all attention to Oslo’s government center by exploding a massive truck bomb just 90 minutes before showing up unchecked on Utoya dressed as a cop.

Greengrass and cinematographer Pal Ulvik Rokseth handle the massacre in an unexploited manner, knowing its unadulterated evil speaks for itself. It’s hard to watch and even harder to make sense of — at least at first. And it’s the “why” that most interests Greengrass, as his script — culled from Asne Seierstad’s book “One of Us” — explores the aftermath through the eyes of Breivik (a sensational Anders Danielsen Lie), his reluctant attorney, Geir Lippestad (Jon Oigarden), and two young brothers, Viljar (Jonas Strand Gravli) and Torje (Isak Bakli Aglen) Hanssen, who survive the shooting.

By far, the most gripping of the perspectives is through Viljar, who sustained five wounds, the worst being to his head, where several inoperable bullet fragments reside precariously close to his brain stem. One jolt or fall, and those tiny bits of lead could very well kill him. Watching his slow, painful recovery is inspirational, a struggle the talented Gravil depicts movingly, as Viljar’s fight is burdened further by whether to testify at Breivik’s upcoming trial. It’s something he wants to do, but can’t bring himself to commit out of fear of being in the room with the man who maimed him.

Less showy is the toll being taken on his unscratched younger brother, Torje, who out of deference to Viljar has internalized his building combination of PTSD and survivors guilt. Meanwhile, the boys’ liberal-leaning parents (Maria Bock and Thorbjorn Harr) are at odds over their differing ideas of justice. Equally conflicted is the assassin’s attorney, Lippestad, who can’t stand the sight of Breivik — and the death threats thrust upon his young family — but soldiers on out of a sense of duty to advocate for his despicable client.

How Lippestad manages to be braver than us when looking into Breivik’s dead eyes is admirable, even more so when the killer insists on reciting his manifesto of wiping out all Muslims and any other group threatening Norway’s values, beliefs and traditions. Even scarier is the idea there could be more Breivik’s out there, especially given the current political climate in which nationalist beliefs are being echoed by the White House.

With that in mind, I sense we, as Americans, are Greengrass’ target audience, which might explain why he opted to shoot the entire film in English. But he’s also not afraid to let a white supremacist like Breivik state his case, leaving it up to us to decide who we choose to follow. It’s apropos that both cases are made in a courtroom where we are the jury. And these scenes, which make up most of the final third of the movie are riveting, with the only misstep being a budding relationship between Viljar and Lara (Seda Witt), the daughter of Muslim refugees. It feels tacked on, unnecessary and overreaching.

Same with the inclusion of Jens Stoltenberg (Ola G. Furuseth), Norway’s then prime minister who now is the secretary general of NATO, an organization Trump has often attempted to undermine and belittle. Other than a few looks of shock and grief, Stoltenberg’s presence adds nothing to the story beyond a direct connection to Trump and his dangerous nationalist beliefs.

It’s not a big part of “22 July,” nor does it detract from the film’s power to open eyes and understand how destructive hatred can be when allowed to fester. But it’s still a tad heavy-handed, especially when it’s already more than enough witnessing the slaughter of dozens of innocent children by a deranged bigot. Nothing speaks more powerfully than that — and the mark it leaves is indelible.